CHAPTER 11 — Forced Proximity Begins
611 Words
Celeste didn’t expect her morning to involve a plastic container of adobo and a reluctant trip to the mango grove. She had barely finished her coffee when her aunt barged into the kitchen, breathless and dramatic as always.
“Celeste, hija, can you bring this to Elias? He ordered food yesterday but I forgot to deliver it.”
Celeste blinked. “Why me?”
“Because I’m busy,” her aunt said, waving a hand. “And because he won’t bite.”
Celeste wasn’t convinced. “He looks like he might.”
Her aunt snorted. “Only if you bother him. Which you will. So go.”
And that was how Celeste found herself walking the narrow path toward Elias’s house, the container warm in her hands, her heart annoyingly aware of every step.
The grove was quiet, sunlight filtering through the leaves in soft golden patches. His house appeared between the trees — simple, wooden, isolated. Just like him.
She hesitated at the door.
Then knocked.
A moment later, it opened — and there he was.
Elias.
Hair slightly damp from work. Shirt clinging to his shoulders. Eyes dark and unreadable.
He froze when he saw her. “What are you doing here?”
“Good morning to you too,” she said, lifting the container. “Your food.”
“I didn’t ask you to bring it.”
“Well, my aunt did. And she’s scarier than you.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t take the container. Just stared at her like she was a problem he didn’t know how to solve.
“Elias,” she said, “it’s just food.”
He exhaled slowly, stepped aside, and let her in.
The inside of his house surprised her — clean, organized, quiet. A small table. A single chair. A bed neatly made. Tools hung on the wall. No clutter. No warmth.
No life.
She placed the container on the table. “You live like a monk.”
He ignored that. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not?”
“It’s better if you stay away.”
She crossed her arms. “You say that a lot.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Then why do you keep letting me in?”
He stiffened.
She didn’t miss it.
Celeste stepped closer, just enough to make him tense. “If you really wanted me gone, you wouldn’t have opened the door.”
His jaw tightened. “I opened it because you wouldn’t leave.”
“Exactly.”
Their eyes met — a quiet, charged moment that made her pulse jump.
He looked away first. “You should go.”
She didn’t move. “Say please.”
He glared. “Celeste.”
She smiled. “See? You can say my name without sounding annoyed.”
He didn’t smile back, but something in his expression softened — barely, but enough.
She took a slow breath. “I’m not here to bother you. I’m just delivering food.”
“And now you’ve delivered it.”
“Are you kicking me out?”
“Yes.”
She laughed — a soft, surprised sound. “You’re terrible at hospitality.”
“I don’t want guests.”
“Then why do you look like you’re trying not to smile?”
He froze.
She stepped past him toward the door. “Fine. I’ll go. But next time, pick up your own food.”
He didn’t answer.
But as she walked away, she felt it — that familiar awareness, that quiet pull.
She turned slightly.
Elias was watching her from the doorway.
Not cold.
Not angry.
Just… watching.
And for the first time, she didn’t look away.
- Writer
